Gifts
by OldFashionedGirl95
Summary: In which a boy, lately returned from another world, is given a memory-laden gift and faced with a decision.
1. Chapter 1

Gifts (No Need to Speak of What is Past)

A long time ago, four children stumbled through a magical wardrobe into another world, where they battled witches and giants and dragons, and became kings and queens. They grew up in this other world. They went to meetings and negotiated with foreign dignitaries, organized grand balls and decided matters of justice and performed all the duties of monarchs. And after fifteen years, when the government was stable and the land was at peace, they went out hunting one fine autumn day and never returned. They sought a magical Stag who granted wishes, and instead they stumbled back through the door, back into the world they had come from, back into their childhoods, back into war-torn England.

They were glad, then, that they were staying in the country with the gruff but sympathetic professor, in whom they could confide. There was time that summer to adjust, to learn once more how to be children, to talk of their parents and their once-forgotten childhoods. There was time to talk and time to think, time to remember things some children would love to know, and time to try to forget things that no child would wish to dream of. The years of adventure and paperwork, diplomacy and excitement, all had disappeared into the blink of an eye, leaving only four children—aged eight, ten, twelve, and thirteen, each with more than two decades of memories. The years may have passed in a moment, but the children needed the whole summer to sort out the memories.

And at last it was time for school, and they were almost glad to be going back to the place they had once called . . . home.

The train ride was long. At last the youngest of the four, her nose pressed to the glass, squealed, "Mummy!" The greetings were joyful. Even if the war was still raging, even if Father was still away fighting, at least they were together again. It was the next morning before the children really remembered how different they were now.

The boys were going off to school that day, and all five of them, the children and their mother, had just arisen from the breakfast table.

"Wait a moment," their mother said, going over to the cupboard and taking out a paper package. She came back to the table, eyes shining, and handed it to her younger son.

"Something for the train," she said as he took it. "I know it's only a few pieces, but it's so hard to get sweets of any kind now. I have biscuits for the others, but I know how much you like these."

And a sinking feeling came into his stomach (he was sure he'd rather have the biscuits) as he unfolded the top of the paper sack, the others leaning in to see. It wasn't. It couldn't be.

It was. The boy blanched white. He stared at the paper sack, seeing rather an ornate box from long, long ago, a box encrusted with witchery and heavy with magic, tied with a green silk ribbon.

_What should you like best to eat?_

_ I should like very much to meet your brother and your two sisters . . ._

_ I was just playing along . . ._

_ Well, of all the poisonous little beasts . . ._

_ I'll show him!_

_ Is your sister safe?_

_ You're here because he turned you in—for sweeties!_

_ Think about whose side you're on: mine—or theirs?_

_ You have a traitor in your midst . . . h__is blood is my property!_

His heart began to pound as all this and more flashed through his mind. He glanced up. His little sister slid her hand into his and squeezed hard. His older sister looked at him with gentle sympathy. His elder brother gazed steadily at him over their mother's shoulder. There was both compassion and challenge in his eyes as he mouthed the words they had spoken to each other so many times: "Justice and Service."

The boy with too many memories looked back down. He had lived one of his lives—what he counted the more important one—by those words.

_Here is your brother . . . there is no need to speak of what is past._

_ Rise, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table._

_ Even a traitor may mend . . ._

_ Long live the King!_

His mother had missed them. She didn't mean any harm. And she, too, deserved justice.

All this had taken only a moment, and the man-child, with a deep, steadying breath, looked up again and smiled at his mother. "Thank you, Mum," he whispered, rising to embrace her.

She was pleased, if surprised by his sudden emotion, and she stroked his hair. He'd grown so tall that summer. "All this fuss over a few sweeties!" she said, smiling.

He buried his face in her shoulder. "It's been a long time. I've missed you, Mum."

She never knew how much he'd missed her. All he said when he stood back and looked at her was, "However did you find enough ration cards?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry, everyone. I forgot to add a disclaimer/author's note (this was my first posting) so, here goes.**

**Disclaimer: When my deal with the Lewis estate goes through, I'll let you know. Until then, I own nothing except one battered copy of LWW.**

**AN: Hey, everyone! This isn't the first Narnia fanfic I've written, but it's the first I've posted, and I'm anxious to see what you all think. I know the idea's been done before, but I liked the way it turned out, so there you have it! I love reviews!**


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